


Be Still My Beating Heart

by AgentStannerShipper



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bonding, Canon Compliant, First Crush, Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, T'hy'la, Vulcan Culture, Vulcan Mind Melds, bones shows up for half a second, implied pon farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22344508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: At age seven, Spock writes a list of reasons why James Kirk should be his bondmate.It's a long time before the universe gets the memo.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 50
Kudos: 910





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to unicornspaceinvasion for the prompt about baby Vulcans and their first crushes, and thanks to the gang for basically chanting "spirk" at me until I wrote it. This premise is a classic, but I hope I did it justice so it's not too repetitive. Hope you like it.

Spock peered around the door to his father’s office, PADD clutched tightly in his hand. It was illogical to be nervous about meeting with his father, and yet Spock was not entirely able to banish the feeling from his mind, a fact which only exacerbated the situation. Were Sarek to realize Spock’s nerves, he was surely in for another lecture, and that was the last thing Spock wanted when he had such an important topic to discuss with his father. He glanced behind him. Lingering much longer in the halls of the Vulcan Embassy would be inadvisable. If another Vulcan were to see him, his position would undoubtedly be revealed to his father anyway, and not on his own terms. There was no logic in putting it off.

He knocked carefully on the cracked office door and waited for Sarek’s “come in” to push it all the way open. He held the PADD in front of him, his back straight as he approached his father. The room’s décor was similar to Sarek’s office in their home on Vulcan, practical and efficient in every respect, reflecting the Vulcan seated behind the PADD-covered desk. Sarek looked up at his son’s approach and lifted an eyebrow in response. “Spock. I was not aware that you were visiting today. Does your mother know that you are here?”

Spock kept his voice even, and inclined his head respectfully. “Yes, Father. I was able to convince her that, having completed my kahs-wan, I am more than capable of navigating an Earth-city alone.” He had been particularly proud of that bit of logic; it was less dangerous, he had reasoned, to walk from their house in San Francisco to the embassy, where he could ask anyone for directions if he got lost and where there were an abundance of Starfleet officers willing to aid alien citizens, than to fend for himself for ten days in the desert.

“I see.” Sarek steepled his fingers together. “And what is the reason for your visit?”

Spock steeled himself, keeping his face carefully blank of both the nervousness and the hope that he could not manage to control. He offered up the PADD, sliding it with a faint clatter on top of the stack. “As I said, I have completed my kahs-wan. It is therefore time to choose my betrothed. I have selected a candidate for your approval and provided a list of reasons he would be a logical choice.” He indicated the PADD again. “It is all included there.”

Sarek’s eyebrow raised, and he tilted his head. “It is traditional for the parents to choose a betrothed for their child, to ensure compatibility. This is irregular, Spock.”

“I am aware, Father. But I believe my choice is a logical one, and one you may not have considered.”

“And it is a boy?”

“It is.” In this, at least, Spock had no concerns. He had only a basic understanding of reproduction, but he knew Vulcan had the technology that, regardless of the gender of his mate, he would be able to continue on his bloodline even if his parents were not to have any more children. Thus, same-sex bondings had no reason to be looked down upon, even if it was traditional to match boys with girls initially.

Sarek picked up the PADD and scanned it. He did not frown – he, unlike Spock, had far too much control for that – but Spock knew his father well enough to see the changes in his eyes, the faint crinkle above the bridge of his nose that meant confusion. “He is human.”

“Yes.” Spock nodded. “As I explain here and here—” he stretched up, pointing at the sections on the PADD “—my having a human bondmate could serve as an asset.”

Sarek sat back, the PADD in his lap, and observed Spock. “There are a number of logical points here. It is worthy of consideration. Where did you meet the boy?”

“At the event we attended last night.”

***

“Mother, please desist.” Spock ducked away from her hand, preventing her from ruffling his hair any further. He attempted to smooth it flat again with his own hand, but without a mirror could not judge his success.

Amanda just smiled and shook her head, although there were traces of sadness in her too-human face. Spock resisted the need to hug her and apologize. He had passed his kahs-wan. He was well beyond the age where it was appropriate to give in to the desires of his human side. He was a true Vulcan now, on his way to Vulcan adulthood. His parents would acquire him a bondmate soon, and when the bonding ritual was complete, Spock would never again be an outsider. He would never again be alone. _Never and always touching and touched._

He surveyed the room. His father’s Starfleet functions were dull, but Spock appreciated being allowed to attend. He often stayed home on Vulcan, but Amanda had asked Sarek to come, so she might visit her human family, and he had agreed. Thus, they had brought Spock as well. His black formal robes itched, and he folded his hands behind his back to avoid picking at the intricate script embroidered into them.

Sarek was across the room, speaking quietly with a cluster of humans in Starfleet dress uniforms. The room was full of adults, most of them humans, although Spock was able to see a few Tellarites and an Andorian. None of them were anywhere close to Spock’s age.

“Amanda?”

Spock turned with his mother, both looking instinctively towards the bright voice. The being it originated from, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair and a Starfleet science officer’s uniform only waited a heartbeat before launching herself at Amanda, wrapping her up in a tight hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you! I missed you!”

To Spock’s surprise, his mother hugged back, laughing in delight. “God, Winona, it’s been so long! I didn’t know you were going to be here!”

“I didn’t know myself until a couple of hours ago! I was supposed to be on shore leave, but my captain called me in last minute, and then of course Jimmy here insisted on coming too.” She pulled away from Spock’s mother and indicated a young boy, approximately Spock’s age in Terran years, sulking behind her leg. “Say hi, Jimmy.”

“Hi,” he muttered. He eyed Spock with curiosity, and Spock tilted his head. The boy had dirty blond hair, a few shades darker than his mother’s, and astonishingly blue eyes. Spock couldn’t recall any Vulcans in his acquaintance who had blue eyes. The knowledge lodged itself in his stomach unexpectedly, and he clenched it as it fluttered, unfamiliar with the sensation.

Amanda lit up, grinning down at the boy. “Oh, he looks just like George, doesn’t he?”

Winona’s eyes went dark, like the life was suddenly gone from them. “He certainly does.” Jimmy flinched, and Spock’s heart wrenched. He pressed his lips together to keep it from showing, squeezing his hands even tighter behind his back. His reactions to this boy were unusual, but he was beginning to have an inkling what they were. His mother had read him a number of stories as a child. The human term was “love at first sight.”

But no. Spock was a Vulcan. He was beyond emotional, especially such a fleeting, trivial emotion as infatuation. He swallowed hard and tried to look anywhere but Jimmy’s blue eyes.

Amanda gave Winona a sympathetic look, and then turned to Spock. “Baby, why don’t you and Jimmy go find somewhere to play while Winona and I catch up?”

“I am no longer an infant, mother,” Spock reminded her. “I would prefer it if you did not continue to refer to me as such.”

“Of course, of course,” she raised her hands in surrender, although Spock suspected this confirmation meant little. They had exchanged this dialogue many times before, and his mother had yet to cease the behavior. “But will you?”

“I will go.” He looked to Jimmy. “Will you come?” A brief encounter would prove that any un-Vulcan feelings were squashed. Spock was widely disliked by people his own age. He doubted Jimmy would be much different from his Vulcan classmates, and if the human didn’t like him, then Spock could distance himself from him as he did with all the rest.

“Sure.” Jimmy detached himself from his mother and followed Spock out the assembly room doors and into the courtyard, the sulky expression still on his face. Spock liked gardens. They reminded him of his mother’s back on Vulcan, and it would provide them privacy from the interference of the adults. He found a little bench by a fountain and took a seat, turning to Jimmy and waiting for him to do the same. The sooner they proceeded, the sooner Spock’s stomach would settle, and the world would be right again.

The boy remained standing, his arms crossed. He was studying Spock with suspicious, narrowed eyes. That expression was familiar, even if the eyes it was in were not. Finally, he jerked his chin up. “What’s your name?”

“S’chn T’gai Spock.”

Jimmy blinked, his lips parting as he mouthed the syllables, frowning as he stumbled over them. At length, he asked, “Can I just call you Spock?”

“That would be logical.”

“Great.” Surprisingly, Jimmy dropped onto the bench beside him, a mess of limbs that nearly intruded into Spock’s space. He seemed heedless of the miniscule gap between them, and the unexpected closeness resulted in another flip from Spock’s stomach. “You can call me Jim,” he added as an afterthought, tossed over his shoulder and almost directly into Spock’s ear.

Spock inclined his head. He ought to move away. He did not. “Your mother introduced you as Jimmy.”

Jim wrinkled his nose. “Jimmy is a kid’s name.”

Spock nodded in understanding. “My mother also refuses to acknowledge my impending adulthood.”

Jim gave him a skeptical look. “You’re like seven.”

“I am seven years, three months, and eight days old. I have completed my kahs-wan. In Vulcan society, that means I am approaching adulthood. The next step is to choose my bondmate.” A thought nudged at the back of his mind. He ignored it. It was not logical.

Jim’s eyes widened, and he leaned back. “You get _married_ at _seven?”_

Spock shook his head. “A bonding is less than a marriage but more than a betrothal. There is no equivalent human word. Our minds will be linked, so that at the appointed Time, we will be called together, and a full bond will be formed.” ‘Our’ did not mean Jim, he reminded himself forcefully, to combat the hazy image growing in his mind. He had only just met Jim, and there was no indication the human so much as liked him. Then again, Vulcans rarely met their betrotheds prior to betrothal, and the fact that Jim had not yet devolved to making fun of him was an encouragement Spock could not afford to think about.

“What do you mean, linked?”

The question brought him back to reality, and he answered, “Vulcans are telepaths.”

“Oh. Cool.” Jim sat back, pulling his legs up onto the bench and crossing them. He propped his chin on one hand, staring into a nearby fountain. In the low light of evening, he made a striking figure, like an ancient earth painting. The silence was not uncomfortable, as it often was when his classmates ignored him. It reminded Spock of meditation; two beings in quiet harmony. The image pressed back, more insistently this time.

“Who is George?” he asked at length.

Jim flinched, but before Spock could decide if he should regret asking, Jim said, “He was my dad. He died.”

“That is why his name upsets you and your mother.”

“Yeah.” Jim picked at a spot on his pants. Like Spock, he was in formal wear, although he wore dress pants and a sort of tunic instead of Spock’s flowing robes. The look suited him. “He was a big deal at Starfleet,” Jim continued after a minute. “Died saving a whole bunch of people, including my mom and me. Everyone says I look like him, that I should be like him. But I don’t know what I want.”

“I understand.”

“I doubt it.”

Spock raised his eyebrows. “I am the only half-Vulcan in existence. As such, I am frequently told what I should be. My destiny, and yours, are set in their eyes.” And as in all such cases, Spock suspected that no matter what they did, they would be disappointments.

“Well, fuck destiny,” Jim said. Spock’s eyebrows rose higher at the swear, but he did not comment. It was oddly endearing. “You know what I think?”

“Obviously I do not.”

Jim snorted, and he grinned. “Some telepath you are.” He leaned back. “I think it’d serve them all right if I never did anything. I don’t need to be some big hero, just because my dad was. I could be nobody. I’d like that.”

“It is an appealing thought.” Spock entertained, just for a moment, what his life would be like if he were not the half-human son of the Vulcan ambassador. If he were fully Vulcan, or fully human, living a quiet life away from the prying eyes and the constant struggle to prove himself. But he only considered it a moment. He was half human, half Vulcan. Kaiidth.

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Spock added, “It is touch-telepathy.”

“What?”

“I cannot read your mind unless I am touching you.”

“Oh.”

Jim eyed him curiously, scooting closer until he was pressed against Spock’s side. Spock’s eyes widened, and he felt a fierce blush green the tips of his ears. He did not let it get farther than that.

“Can you read my mind now?” Jim asked.

Spock swallowed hard. Jim’s proximity was affecting him in a way he had never encountered before. He could hardly hear for all the blood rushing in his ears. His heart, already much faster than a human’s, seemed to be working overtime. “No,” he managed. “It…it requires skin contact.”

Jim’s hand darted out, grabbing Spock’s before he could snatch it away, lacing their fingers together in a tight grip. Lightning raced up Spock’s arm, and his mouth fell open in shock at the unexpected pleasure of the touch. He wrenched his hand away, clutching it to his chest. “Don’t…do not…”

“Shit, sorry.” Jim immediately looked apologetic. “Did I hurt you?”

“Vulcan hands are…sensitive.” Jim did not need to know the true intimacy of the gesture he had just made. Spock was not sure Sarek would approve of his explaining it. “Please do not do it again.” Even as he spoke the words, he ached for the touch to return, missing the fingers pressing alongside his own. Jim’s touch.

“I won’t,” Jim promised.

The temptation was too great to resist. Spock turned towards him, sitting cross-legged like Jim. Jim turned too, so they were facing each other. “I am not practiced at mind melds,” he cautioned Jim. “There is risk of injury to you, particularly since humans are a psi-null race.”

Jim did not appear concerned. In fact, he leaned forward. “I trust you.”

Spock ought to turn him down. It was an intimate gesture, even more so than the hand-holding. But Spock couldn’t deny the appeal of melding. Not even his father would meld with him, and it was an intimacy that Spock craved desperately. He had hardly known Jim an hour, but already he felt safe with him, like he could say anything, and Jim would not judge him for it. They were kindred spirits. Jim _trusted him_. That was a gift that Spock had never expected to gain from anyone in his life, handed to him by a beautiful boy. A boy who wanted Spock in his mind, perhaps as much as Spock wanted to be there.

“Please relax,” Spock told him. “If you attempt to resist, I could cause inadvertent damage to your mind.” It would be unforgivable to hurt Jim. Spock would not be able to live with himself if he did.

“Alright,” Jim nodded. “Relax. I’m relaxed.”

Spock reached out, fitting his fingers over the psi points. “My mind to your mind. Your thoughts to my thoughts.”

At first, he thought nothing had happened. He had melded only once before, with his grandmother T’Pau, and her mind had been sharp and abrasive, so that remaining intertwined was a constant struggle. There was no struggle with Jim. Their minds touched, and then he was in, like sinking into a pool of water.

He shuddered in delight as Jim’s thoughts brushed his own, a burning sun leaking stardust across their mindscape. _Spock?_

_Jim._

It was like coming home. Spock pushed deeper, and Jim welcomed him in, Spock returning the gesture so that Jim could sink farther into his mind in return, twisting their cores together in an unpracticed dance, but one perfectly in sync.

_I can feel you_.

_As I, you._

“Spock!”

He jerked from the meld, scrambling back away from Jim, who looked a little dazed as he resurfaced. Amanda called out his name again, from somewhere by the doorway, and Spock ducked, pressing himself onto his stomach on the bench. Jim did the same. “Your mom’s looking for you,” he whispered.

“She probably wishes to take me home.” Spock made his voice equally low. He could feel Jim’s breath against his cheek, and had to resist the urge to reach out and touch again. “The meld did not hurt you, did it?”

Jim shook his head. “No! It felt…good. Really good.”

“It did?” Spock tilted his chin up to look at him, and met Jim’s beautiful blue eyes.

Jim nodded, and Spock allowed himself, for the first time in a very long time, to smile. It was mostly with his eyes, but he could not deny the quirk of his lips. It made Jim smile too, and therefore it was worth it. “I also found it enjoyable,” he told Jim.

Jim opened his mouth, but he was cut off by Amanda’s voice becoming more insistent. “Spock! It’s time to go!”

“I should leave.” Spock paused. “What is your name?”

“I told you, it’s-“

“Your full name.”

“James. James Tiberius Kirk.”

Spock sat up, and Jim mirrored the move. With another small smile, Spock extended the ta’al. “Live long and prosper, James Tiberius Kirk. I will see you again soon.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Jim hesitated, and then darted forward, planting a quick kiss on Spock’s cheek. Without looking back, he fled in the opposite direction of Spock’s calling mother, but even in the darkness Spock could see the tips of the human’s ears turning red. His stomach fluttered again, and he pressed a hand to his cheek. Then he stood up and marched towards Amanda’s voice. There was something he needed to do, and he needed a PADD to do it.

***

“I see,” Sarek said. “So, you spoke to this—” he consulted the PADD “—James Kirk while we attended the Starfleet function last night?”

“Yes, Father.”

His eyes scanned the modest list until he came to a stop on one point that drew his lips into a thin line. “You melded with him?”

Lying was illogical. Vulcans did not lie. “I did not. However, he made skin contact with me, and I was able to glimpse a shallow sense of his mind. I believe we would be compatible in that respect.”

“Very well. I will consider your proposal, Spock.” Sarek set the PADD aside, away from the others, and nodded towards the door. “If there is nothing else?”

“No, Father.” Spock accepted his dismissal, and strode towards the door with his head held high. He had accomplished his mission. He would see Jim again, and they would be bonded. Surely his father would see that it was only logical.

When they left Earth for Vulcan five days later, Amanda broke the news to Spock. They were returning for his bonding ceremony. His father had selected a Vulcan girl from a prominent family, one willing to bond their daughter to a half-breed for the prestige associated with the House of Sarek. Her name was T’Pring, and according to his mother, she was a very nice, very beautiful young girl.

Perhaps, thought Spock, staring at her picture on the PADD. But she was not Jim. And for once in his short, tumultuous life, Spock finally, _finally_ , felt nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

“I gotta say,” Jim grinned, turning over onto his side to face Spock fully, “I think I like the Vulcan wedding traditions a lot more than the human ones.”

Spock remained on his back, but he did glance towards his ashayam, eyebrow raised. His bondmate made a striking picture, nude except for the sheet hanging low along his waist, his golden skin shimmering in the red light of Vulcan’s suns, the muscles of his arms standing out as he propped himself up in their bed. Even the faint bruises on his hips, bruises that would surely match Spock’s fingerprints exactly, could not mar such an image. It was a beautiful sight indeed, and one that did not fail to remind Spock of how they had come to be here. “You will recall,” Spock said, “I have very little memory of the past few days, save for the pleasure I took in your body.”

“Exactly.” Jim’s smile widened. “No hassle, no fuss, just a little ritual and three straight days of-“

“You assume we will not also have a human wedding,” Spock pointed out. “Your mother will insist.” Somehow, he did not think he would mind. There were many human traditions that Spock did not understand, but one thing he could comprehend perfectly was the need to declare your love in front of all those dear to you. Publicly claiming a bondmate was an ancient Vulcan tradition, and one Spock agreed with absolutely.

Jim’s smile faded, and he groaned, collapsing onto his back and throwing an arm across his face. “Ugh. She probably will. She’s been planning it practically since my birth, right down to the seating arrangements.” He shifted, peering out at Spock with one eye. “Well, if I couldn’t marry a nice Jewish boy-“

“Although I object to the use of the word ‘boy,’ the other two descriptors are accurate.”

“What, really?” Jim stared. “You’re Jewish?”

“My mother was. By tradition, that makes me Jewish as well, and we observed many of the traditions as I was growing up.”

“How did I not know that?”

“There is much still to learn of each other, ashaya. That journey will never be over.”

Jim laughed. “That’s for sure.” He squirmed, snuggling back up to Spock’s side in spite of the heat. “And for the record? Nice is the _last_ word I would use to describe you. You’re a Grade-A asshole. Bones’ll back me up on that.”

“And yet, you love me anyway.”

“Fuck yeah, I love you.” Jim leaned forward, and Spock met him in a human kiss, their hands entwining so Spock could press Vulcan kisses along Jim’s fingers. “Spock?”

“Yes, Jim?”

“How much longer until they come busting down our door?”

“We likely have a few hours before my father and the good doctor grow concerned over the state of your health, although I cannot predict it with any accuracy.”

“A few hours, huh?” That mischievous twinkle that Spock had learned to love and fear in equal measure danced back into Jim’s eyes. His bondmate rose, throwing a leg over Spock’s hips, and braced himself up on Spock’s pelvis. “What do you say we dedicate that time to _your_ health?”

“The blood fever has broken. I assure you, I am fine.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jim teased. He pressed a hand to Spock’s forehead. “You still feel awfully hot to me.”

Spock growled, flipping them over, and Jim laughed again, so Spock quickly found something else to keep his mouth busy with.

They had precisely four point three hours before they were interrupted by Doctor McCoy barging in with a tricorder, his eyes shielded as he barked, “You’d both better be decent so I can make sure that damned Vulcan didn’t kill you by marrying you.” They weren’t decent by the doctor’s definition, but Spock couldn’t complain. Jim was finally where he belonged, by Spock’s side. In light of that, Spock would deal with McCoy’s rantings any day.

Sarek met them outside, once they were both fully clothed and given a clean bill of health. He inclined his head towards Jim. “I welcome to my house. You will always have a place within our clan.”

“Thanks.” Jim glanced towards Spock, who pushed reassurance through their link. It thrummed in the back of his mind, and he felt Jim’s delight echo back, thrilled at the permanent connection.

Sarek turned to Spock. “Your mother would have been proud.”

“She would have been happy,” Spock correctly mildly. As he was, and would forever be.

Sarek inclined his head. “I believe she would have been, yes.”

Neither spoke for a minute. Across the bond, Jim pushed a question, and Spock responded with memory, the PADD with T’Pring’s picture in his hand, the knowledge that Sarek did not believe Jim could possibly be right for him. Jim sent him a reminder in return: they were different people now. Their time apart had made them into the people they needed to become.

_Basically,_ Jim thought _, we got the timing just right_.

For that, Spock might be able to forgive his father. Someday.

As if guessing the nature of their thoughts, Sarek pulled a PADD from his robes, offering it to Jim. “I believe you should have this.”

Jim took it. “What is it?”

“A list my son made, on the night that he met you. It is a list of reasons why he believed you should be bonded.” Sarek glanced towards him. “It was…convincing. Had arrangements with T’Pring’s family not been nearly complete, I might have even approached your mother about it.” He shook his head. “Kaiidith. What is, is. And it all seems to have turned out acceptably.”

“More than acceptably,” Jim agreed. He sent another shot of delight Spock’s way, and Spock returned it in kind, just to see Jim smile.

“Regardless,” Sarek said, “I thought you should have it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jim said. “I appreciate it.”

Sarek nodded, and strode away, leaving Jim to glance down at the PADD, his brow furrowed and a smile playing at his lips while he read it. At the bottom, he glanced up at Spock. “I can’t believe you wrote this when you were _seven_. It’s adorable.”

“It seemed the only reasonable thing to do at the time,” Spock said. “I believed you would make the perfect bondmate for me.” He took the PADD from Jim, studied it, and then said, “However, this list is incomplete.” He typed something, and then handed it back to Jim, who grinned broadly.

“Yeah,” he said. “That about does it.” And in the middle of the hallway in Spock’s family home, Jim kissed him. Behind him, Spock could hear McCoy spluttering as the doctor came out of the room and saw them, but he did not care. He had his t’hy’la, and all was as it should be.


	3. Spock's List

Reasons why James Tiberius Kirk will make an adequate bondmate:

  * He is of an age with me. When I enter my Time, he will therefore be appropriately mature to assist me in my need.
  * He is human. My half-blood status makes me largely undesirable to the Vulcan population. Our bonding is more likely to be accepted. 
    * On this note, additional human-Vulcan bondings will potentially strengthen Federation ties between Earth and Vulcan.
  * As the son of two Starfleet officers, he is an appropriate choice for a diplomat’s son. His family connections are roughly equivalent to our own. 
    * Additionally, the prominence of his father (deceased) as a public figure, as well as public knowledge of my own heritage, will enhance diplomatic relations between Earth and Vulcan (as indicated above) due to the high-profile nature of our identities.
  * In our single conversation, we have proven to have complimentary personalities. This is an asset over a bonding with someone I have not met, and who I may have little in common with.
  * Our minds appear to be compatible. I foresee no issues with his psi-null nature. 
    * In fact, I am not convinced he is psi-null. His mind accepts Vulcan telepathy, even in passing, with remarkable ease.
  * Because he is male, we will be unable to have children and will require a surrogate. However, acquiring a Vulcan one will ensure there is no further dilution of our bloodline, so our house may live on.
  * He finds me aesthetically appealing. Humans consider this important in their mates. While Vulcans may reject me for have inferior mental capacities, he likely will not as long as he continues to find me attractive.
  * I find him equally appealing. His mind is bright. He will not dull me by association, and may in fact improve me instead.
  * My having a human bondmate will be pleasing for Mother, as she will have the opportunity to engage with another from her native culture in a way she currently does not. This will benefit overall family stability. 
    * In the same vein, a human bondmate will enable me to examine my human heritage without parting from the Vulcan path, as your marriage to Mother allowed you a similar opportunity in your ambassadorial duties.



  * [Addendum] I love him more than life itself. He is my t’hy’la, and I shall never be parted from him again.




End file.
